


Joie de vivre

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [179]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Case Fic, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 03:36:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6357319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>joie de vivre: noun: zhwä-də-ˈvēvrə: a feeling of happiness or excitement about life</p>
<p>French, literally ‘joy of living.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Joie de vivre

No one had ever seen him smile before at a crime scene, unless it was at the expense of some unfortunate forensic rookie until the appearance of a certain doctor. Before, he had always grumbled and growled out his observations, sighing in impatience, then leaving as quickly as he had arrived with a swoosh of his coat, vanishing back to his cave, they all assumed.

It was a rainy, dampish, dreary night, they were huddled under umbrellas, all in rain boots and parkas when he, no, they, appeared on the scene. He was whistling, (yes, whistling) and almost polite, he made a few pointed remarks, but after looks and nudges from his silent partner, he would stop and apologize, even if he did roll his eyes a bit. 

"John-what do you think?"

They all stopped, and looked first at one another, then at Sherlock, then at the quiet, 'normal' looking man who crouched carefully next to the corpse.

"Strangulation, definitely broke the hyoid, left handed, could have been male or female, she's small...but..."

"But...?"

"...trace of perfume...lavender...with other scents underneath..."

"Very good." And there it was, a real smile, that reached his eyes. "Brilliant, John-"

"Who's he?" Lestrade interrupted.

"He's with me."

"But, who is he?"

There was the sigh and roll of the eyes, though halfhearted at best. "Dr. John Watson, this is uhm, DI Lestrade...fearless leader of these..."

"Ahem..." John gently nudged him.

"...fine examples of British policing...uhm...yeah...I'd look for a woman, on the taller side, left handed, or perhaps ambidextrous, with an overwhelming fondness for lavender, but she also works at a specialty perfume shop...and the victim did struggle, her nails are broken, and she managed to pull a couple of her hairs from her head, lovely shade of...teal? I would assume scratches on her hands or arms..."

Lestrade nodded thoughtfully, noting the lack of a general air of restlessness that he had come to expect from his younger colleague. Rather, as he listened to him patiently describe the suspect, he discovered the detective carried a bit of joie de vivre in his voice and step as he circled the victim reconstructing her last moments in vibrant detail.

"Motive?"

"Hmm?"

"Why'dya think she-"

"Love."

"Love?"

"They are/were in their twenties, too young for it to be over money, so either over a rival, or unrequited love..."

Hmmm...

"Anything else, Lestrade?"

"Uhm, nope, I think you covered it all...Dr. Watson-"

"John, please, I don't practice any more, John is just fine."

"Greg, he never remembers, nice to meet you-"

"John-we are running behind, the opera-"

"Opera?"

"Yeah, he can't believe I've never seen Carmen..."

"John-"

"Coming-"

Lestrade shook his head; it took quite a bit to surprise him, but John Watson did just that. Perhaps Sherlock had finally found the spark that would take him from being simply a great mind to becoming a decent human being. Good for him.

"Let's wrap it up, kids, so we can go home, yeah?


End file.
